


my hand in your hair will sow the stars

by jaqhad (kyrilu)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/jaqhad
Summary: It was frustrating that First Order stormtroopers and officers kept recognizing Poe Dameron by his hair.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 30
Kudos: 293





	my hand in your hair will sow the stars

**Author's Note:**

> Because I just finished reading Spark of the Resistance, which is basically a love letter to Poe's hair.

It was frustrating that First Order stormtroopers and officers kept recognizing Poe Dameron by his hair.

It wasn’t fiery orange like that First Order girl they had rescued from Coronet City – it wasn’t a mass of sensory tentacles like a Nautolan – it wasn’t even styled in an iconic cultural manner like General Organa.

It was just… his hair.

Poe thought it was _nice_ hair. He inherited it from his mother, curly brown and dark, just like he inherited her love of flight.

But it kept _happening._

“It’s him! Poe Dameron the rebel!”

“Stop that pilot!”

“I know who you are, Resistance scum!”

Every single time, Poe drew his blaster or BB-8 caused a distraction. When Poe snapped binders around the offending foes’ wrists or took them into custody, saying, “How’d you know it was me?” they scoffed and said that his hair looked exactly like the bounty posters on the HoloNet.

“I think you need to start keeping your helmet on,” Suralinda said. Even though she was a Squamatan, blue-skinned, pointy-eared, no one blinked an eye at her and instead immediately zeroed in on Poe.

“I am not keeping my helmet on,” Poe said.

The first time it happened around Finn, they were on a mission to secure bacta from Tevel. Major Varak recognized Poe, even though he and Finn had disguised themselves as First Order inspectors.

Still, they successfully helped the Tevellans liberate their planet. They stocked up on a plentiful supply of bacta for the Resistance.

As they left Tevel’s atmosphere, Finn asked, “How did they know it was you, anyway? I thought our disguises weren’t that bad.”

“It’s my hair,” Poe confessed, and he told Finn about his previous misadventures.

“… Huh,” Finn said. “Well, it’s nice hair.”

“I think so, too.”

Finn laughed. Not a mean laugh, but light-hearted, fond, and Poe flashed him an unrepentant grin.

Finn said, “I don’t think you should feel forced to hide it or anything. It’s what makes us different from the First Order, right? Not wearing buckets on our head and not getting lost in a crowd of soldiers who don't have names.”

“It _is_ kind of different in this case,” Poe admitted, as he activated the ship’s hyperspace drive. “There’s a real need for secrecy. We’re wanted rebels. But it’s perfectly normal human hair, and it shouldn’t be a problem…”

“Maybe it’s just a weird fluke?” Finn suggested. “Maybe it won’t happen anymore.”

It happened again. Poe was wearing a hooded cloak, too, but it slipped off when he was flying a speeder after meeting a contact, and that was that.

Then it happened after Poe answered a distress call to the faraway planet Minfar with Rey, Rose, and BB-8.

Of course, BB-8 briefly mentioned the Minfar incident while Poe was finishing up a game of pazaak with Finn and the other pilots of the former Black Squadron crew. BB-8 was chiding Poe for his overconfidence after he had lost.

Snap overheard – and of course it had to be Snap, one of the few at the table who understood binary, since he was something of a droid slicer expert. “Really, Beebee? I thought Suralinda was joking about the hair thing.”

BB-8 beeped a confirmation.

Poe let out a groan. “It turned out fine, Snap. We destroyed the mind control device contraption the First Order was trying to get. I punched a slimy First Order commander.”

“Your hair came up again?” Finn said.

“Maybe.”

“You should dye it,” Suralinda said, always one with suggestions. “I bet you’d accidentally end up starting a trend, though.”

Poe suppressed a shudder. That was a horrible idea. Anyways, the Resistance had recently landed on the jungle moon of Ajan Kloss and were busy setting up camp here -- “Where am I going to get hair dye anyway, Sura?”

“Teza Nasz dyes her hair red,” Snap said, grinning at Poe over his mug of ale.

“Brilliant. I’ll walk up to an ex-warlord and ask her for beauty advice.”

Nasz might be an ex-Imperial officer who was working with the Resistance now, but Poe wasn’t going to take his chances. She wore fur and carried a vibroax on her belt, for star’s sake.

“The dye’s probably made from the blood of her enemies or something,” Jess said helpfully.

Suralinda chortled. “Is _that_ what we’re going to do with Kylo Ren when we win?”

At that, Finn coughed, nearly choked on his ale, and Poe patted him on the back several times until his fit subsided.

“All of you are weird,” Karé said, affectionately ruffling her husband's hair beside her; Snap ducked half-heartedly. “Let our commander keep his hair.”

Poe tipped his head in her direction. “Thank you, Karé.”

BB-8 let out a series of beeps.

“You almost did _what_ ,” Snap said. “By the Force.”

“Beebee, buddy,” Poe said, “why are you in such a talkative mood tonight? Don’t make me look bad in front of my friends here.”

BB-8 whirred his head, as if to say, _Nope. I’m only the messenger._

“What’d he say?” Finn asked.

“Sanrec Stronghammer of Phantom Squadron challenged him to a race a while back,” Snap said, clearly relishing his role as translator. “If he lost, he was supposed to cut his hair.”

Suralinda let out an exaggerated gasp. Finn looked at Poe’s hair as if it was going to grow legs and run away any minute.

Then the smile faded on Snap’s face, when he realized. “We lost Stronghammer during the mission to Bracca, so Poe didn’t get the chance to race him… He was a good man and a good pilot. My stepdad flew with him, and I’ve heard some stories.”

Snap raised his mug in the air. Solemnly, Poe, Jess, Suralinda, Karé, and Finn (after a beat later, when he saw them) did the same, and they all drank from their mugs.

The atmosphere was more subdued now. It was a familiar silence – it happened often amongst the Resistance’s rank and file. They recalled old missions and old mishaps, and then they paused over a name: _She died during the Battle of Starkiller Base; he was shot down from one of the Raddus’ escape pods; they were lost in the Hosnian Cataclysm._

“Sometimes I really do miss racing for the hell of it,” Poe said, gently, trying to lighten the heaviness in air. “Not that I don’t mind outrunning TIEs. But racing for fun’s got a certain thrill that can’t be beat.”

They had limited fuel and limited time, focusing on supply runs and diplomatic missions, asking for aid and assistance against the First Order.

Karé smiled. “I miss it, too. There will be time for racing after.”

“After,” Poe agreed. He didn’t much like the taste of ale, but at least right now, it was making him feel warmer, brighter. “Even though the stars seem like they might be cold and uncaring, after all that’s happened, after all that we’ve been through, they’re still there and shining bright. I’m always ready to fly as fast as I can through every single one of them, because they’re where I belong—”

“Mother of Moons,” Suralinda cut in, and Poe frowned at her interruption. “He’s still doing this?”

“Always,” Snap said. “Always.”

“I was surprised when I heard it the first time,” Jess said. “The whole ‘I belong to the stars’ bit is inspiring. Then it got old the next dozen times.”

Finn blinked. “I’ve never heard Poe say any of this before.”

Poe flushed. _Oh, kark._

“Because he usually knows how to restrain himself around you, Finn,” Suralinda said, rolling her eyes. “Looks like you lucked out tonight, since Poe drank a little more than usual. I’ve heard his monologues while we were in the Navy together—I thought it might have tapered off, since he kept doing serious military stuff for the New Republic, then the Resistance, while I left to be a journalist… But some things never change, do they?”

Suralinda really needed to stop making assumptions, Poe thought, dismayed. Or at least saying them out loud. Which didn’t make them true, but they could be true, even a little.

At least Finn didn’t seem to understand, or at least, he didn’t directly acknowledge it.

Instead Finn gave him a little smile, knocked his fist against Poe’s shoulder. “It’s nice. Dramatic, but nice.”

“Yeah?” Poe said. He wasn’t looking at Finn with a dopey expression on his face; he wasn’t.

“Yeah. Maybe you could show me your racing spots later, if you have any. Rey was telling me that Chewie said that he and Han Solo used to compete in racing championships. All these crazy courses through asteroid fields and planetary rings.”

“I wasn’t a professional racer, but I know some places,” Poe said. “Maybe we could watch a tournament someday, too. But one of the best places to fly is back home at Yavin IV. I always liked flying above the trees, which are even greener than the ones here, if you can believe it, and then going up to space—”

Jess cleared her throat pointedly, and Poe started. He had been leaning toward Finn, gazing at him intently, and Finn was listening, attentive, their hands close but not quite overlapping on top of the table.

“Let’s finish our ale and play another game of pazaak before heading off to bed,” Snap said, looking back and forth between Poe and Finn.

“Another game sounds good,” Poe said, his voice rough, trying to put his thoughts together.

* * *

Later, Poe ended up walking Finn back to the _Millennium Falcon_. Finn didn’t have the strongest tolerance because alcohol consumption was, apparently, banned for First Order stormtroopers, even though his squadmates occasionally smuggled in some contraband grog.

Finn wasn’t exactly smashed, but just in case, Poe volunteered to help Finn navigate through the darkness so he wouldn’t trip over any tree roots or anything.

“Thanks,” Finn said, as they approached the hatch. “I’m all right, seriously.”

Poe nodded. Poe didn’t sleep in the _Falcon_ – he crashed in the ship he was flying now, the loaner from Grakkus. He knew that the _Falcon_ was crowded, currently housing Rey, Rose, General Organa, and Chewbacca.

Even though Poe had been on the _Falcon_ for a while, he didn’t want to impose. Anyway, it was all temporary, since the base camp was in the process of setting up tents and cots.

Still, he lingered by the _Falcon_ , and Finn did, too, for he didn’t go inside yet.

“Tonight was fun,” Finn said. “Appreciate you letting me tag along with your old squadron.”

“Anytime,” Poe said. He’d been wanting to do that for a while – he wanted to let Finn have a proper introduction to his friends and teammates.

He had invited Rey and Rose, too, but apparently Rey had Force training, while Rose had looked surprised, flattered, and politely declined the invitation, saying maybe next time, since General Organa had tasked her with setting up the camp’s generator system.

And there was a part of Poe that was almost … relieved… because when it came to Finn, sometimes he was endlessly selfish, ridiculously wanting.

He always tried his best for Finn’s friends, and they were great people, great rebels. Rey, a skilled pilot and fighter, a _Jedi_ on top of that, and she and Finn understood each other like no one else. Rose, a mechanic, a little shy, but clever and kind-hearted and resourceful.

Finn had told Poe that there was nothing between him and either of them, yet Poe still wondered, still thought… and this, he knew, was foolishness, because there was a war on, and he still found time to be greener than a klatooine paddy frog.

With effort, Poe pushed those thoughts away. He focused on what was in front of him, the _Falcon_ surrounded by the towering canopy of the jungle.

Poe said, “Black Squadron can be a little bit much, but they’re my people.”

Finn laughed. “Yeah, I saw.”

Then Finn reached out, his cheeks slightly flushed and warm from the alcohol, and he pulled Poe into an embrace.

Startled, Poe let him. Finn’s mouth brushed against his ear as he said, near inaudibly, “Sorry to hear what happened to that Stronghammer guy. But I’m kind of glad. I like your hair the way it is, and I’m happy you didn’t lose it.”

“What, you think I’d lose a race?” Poe said, in a mock offended huff. He drew back, but Finn still kept his hands resting on Poe’s shoulders.

Finn hummed, tuneless, and thumbed a stray curl on the nape of Poe’s neck. “Don’t risk your hair. We can’t lose this famous weapon in the fight against the First Order. And, hey, what you said about Yavin sounds amazing… I think you really do belong to the stars.”

“Not just the stars,” Poe said, and immediately regretted it.

Mortified, he fluttered his eyes closed, just for a second, so he wouldn’t see the expression on Finn's face.

A heartbeat later, he felt it, light as a whisper bird’s feather, a press of quick warmth against his mouth.

He opened his eyes, stunned.

Finn looked embarrassed. His cheeks were still flushed, but it was definitely more than just the ale. “Sorry. I…”

“Finn,” Poe said, “Finn, buddy… if you’re pushing yourself for me, don’t, okay? It’s alright. _I’m_ sorry. Forget about it. I shouldn’t—"

“I meant it,” Finn said. “For real.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Poe said, exhaling. “Okay.”

And then he was kissing Finn, kissing him deeply, his hands cupped around Finn’s face and bringing their mouths together, while Finn let out soft breaths, soft noises, head tipped toward him as he let Poe kiss him again and again and again.

“Damn,” Finn said, after Poe broke off, his lips kiss-bitten, his breath shallow. “You’re good at that. Really good. How are you good at everything, Poe Dameron?”

Poe laughed. “You want to come back to my ship with me and see what else I’m good at?”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Finn said, but he was grinning – they were both grinning – and it wasn’t a refusal at all.


End file.
